Hope is the feeling we have that the feeling we have is not permanent.
It's a new year and, with that, I'd like to rewind to the beginning years of Michael's death.
I dreaded a new year.
One in which he hadn't lived.
He hadn't existed.
A year in which I couldn't even refer to the year before of him being alive.
They stacked up like the worst deck of cards I could fathom.
A reminder of what no longer was.
What no longer could be.
It tore me down the studs of my being.
So as we enter 2014, nearly 7 years later, I'd like to leave you with my experience.
The experience of seeing that hope is not something you must seek after your spouse's death.
Some beacon of light you wait day and night to shine your way.
It's there waiting for you, when the time is right.
That time will be different for each of us.
For me, it unveiled itself after times of wanting to throw in the towel.
It did not come in my worst hours, but when I had nearly become complacent with just existing.
It showed me that the only permanence is impermanence.
That the aching even had its expiration.
So I urge you to be open to hope this year.
Don't turn it away when it knocks on your door.
It's not there to sell you some horrific life.
It's there to remind you of what once was, what is, what can be.
Take a deep breath. It's all going to be ok.